Firefly 'Verse MxM OC

Started by ultimategeek, January 09, 2021, 01:05:26 PM

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I've been going back through old characters I've created but never really played.  This one particularly stuck out to me.  I'm interested in giving playing him a go in a one on one.  What I'm looking for here is a MxM Firefly 'Verse Game.  I'd like to collaborate on the details of the plot and do something with a bit of adventure, something plot heavy.  Definitely a slow burn.  I'm fine either with two OCs, or I'd play him against a canon character perhaps, if the pairing was right.  I am happy to hear any suggestions.

I'm fine with playing via Forum, Google Docs, or Email, but might be persuaded onto another medium.

Content Warnings for child abuse, neglect, and sexual assault in the history section.


Name: Hale Bai
Aliases: Graeme Rice [Current], Cavan Thompsett, Hart Thompsett, Gallagher Zhao, Qiang Yuen[Burned], Kade Zhao, Harding Yuen, Jude Yuen, Kent Paige, Xiang Paige
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Homeworld: Charity
Affiliation: Neutral, Independent-Leaning
Location: The Satori
Position: Detailer/Restorer, Temp Position
Education: Ten Years of Church Education; Independent Army Infantry Training; Learning in the Field.
Cortex Flags: “Quiang Yuen” was arrested for assault of a fellow mine worker on Haven.  Because he was a foreigner the Alliance police were called in to deal with it and he spent about 30 days cooling his heels in an Alliance lock up.  Ultimately they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble and let him go.
Family: A mother, father, nine sisters, and six brothers on Charity.  He doesn’t keep in touch with them, so they may not all be living.  His extended family is probably very large, but he’s never met his nieces or nephews.

Height: 6’ 0”
Weight: 160 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue-Green
Character Model: Gareth David-Lloyd
Orientation:  Gay


General Appearance: When it comes to looks Hale’s pretty average.  He’s neither especially tall nor especially short.  He has a laborer’s musculature but he doesn’t have the set of a bodybuilder.  He keeps his hair short and neat but doesn’t put much thought into it, except to keep it from sticking up when he’s slept on it funny.  Hale prefers to keep a little scruffy facial hair but doesn’t let it grow past that.  His most remarkable feature is his eyes.  They are clear and bright. 

Hale’s demeanor compliments his reserved personality, he has a confident stride and a proud posture, but he displays an army-bred stillness, first learned while sitting through church.  He doesn’t fidget or use many broad gestures unless he’s explaining something mechanical. 

His clothes are simple and casual.  Sometimes he looks a bit like a ranch hand minus the hat.  He usually opts for Henleys, denim jeans, and his old beat up army boots.  He never wears his browncoat from the war anymore, though he kept it.  Sometimes he’ll wear an old beat up bomber jacket that looks like something off of Earth that was.

Distinguishing Characteristics:  Hale has a tattoo, the symbol for his unit with the Independents.  There is an ugly scar across it looks as though he’s tried to burn it off. Usually he wears sleeves long enough to cover both the tattoo and the scar.  He has some scars on his hands from manual work.

History: Hale’s daddy was a preacher on a backwater moon called Charity out in the ass end of nowhere.  Birth control was the devil’s work so Hale had more brothers and sisters than he knew what to do with.  He wound up taking care of the little ‘uns from the time he was old enough to answer to his name.  When his daddy was around discipline was maintained with a rigidity that bordered on the maniacally obsessive. Yet despite the fact that he could never be perfect enough for his pop and that his mum forgot his name more often than she remembered it, Hale hung on his father’s every word.  He didn’t know a god from a grapefruit, but he damn near worshipped his father.

One of the problems with being a lying, stealing, son-of-a-bitch when a man had a brood numbering in the double digits was there were a hell of a lot of prying eyes to catch one in their lying, stealing, son-of-a-bitch ways.  Unfortunately, it was Hale’s innocent eyes that caught his father with his hand in the donation till.  If his father had tried to explain, even told him a weak lie, Hale would have eaten it up.  But the man didn’t know his little boy well enough to make that call.  Instead he shouted accusations at the child, giving Hale a swift spank as he tore out of there with the horrible certainty of what he’d seen cemented in his head and branded cherry red on his ass.  He thought it would have been easier losing faith in God than it had been losing faith in his pop.

Education wasn’t a high priority on Charity, and Hale was schooled in a one-room building behind the church with the same bored schoolteacher from the age of six to sixteen learning ancient dogma.  He occupied his days searching for heroes, desperate for anyone to look up to.  Most of his free-time was spent looking after his younger siblings, sinning in the caves with boys his father would have forbade him to talk to if he ever paid enough attention to notice, and listening to radio channels the Alliance probably thought they’d properly banned.  He fell in love with the rebel broadcasts.  The Browncoats seemed like superheroes and Hale considered for the first time that he could be one of those people that others looked up to for the right reasons.  He stole his daddy’s shotgun and stowed away on a ship heading to Constance, where he’d heard some of the fighting was going on. 

It was sheer luck that Yun Adelfie, the brother of a die-hard Browncoat General, was on the transport, otherwise Hale would have eaten atmo when they fished him out of a barrel dehydrated and starved half to death.   He hadn’t thought to bring any ammo for his daddy’s gun after all, so there wasn’t much defending himself.  Yun smoothed things over, paying his way to Constance.  They took away the shotgun and let him sleep in the engine room.  Yun became a friend, showing him what he knew about tending to ships, playing cards with him, and telling him war stories.  Yun was everything that Hale had imagined as he listened to the rebel broadcasts.  He wore an eye-patch like a pirate from an injury in the fighting and he didn’t talk about things like honor or courage or integrity – he practiced them.  For the first time in his life Hale felt like he was moving toward something important.

“How old are you anyway, kid?” the man asked over a hand of cards one day.  Probably because he knew he was going to lose, Hale decided.  (Integrity didn’t extend to cards – as he’d quickly learned.)   

“Sixteen” he replied with all the brash defiance of a teenager who suspected they were about to get denied a grown up privilege. 

“Not anymore you ain’t.  Anyone asks, you say yer eighteen, just small for your age since they didn’t feed you right on whereverthehell you came from,” he instructed. 

Hale nodded emphatically and mentally tacked two years onto his age. 

Yun delivered him in person and Hale felt like hot shit.  Training was hard but rushed.  They needed boots on the ground too badly to teach him much more than how to take orders and fire a gun.  That was alright by Hale who was eager for heroics, and had a knack for experiential learning.  He was assigned to a unit and got on well with the other men.  He loved army life, even though he didn’t savor the bloodshed. The lieutenant he was assigned to made Yun Adelfie seem like no one important in comparison.  The LT was brave and charismatic, he seemed to really care about each of his men, while being a tough bastard when the situation called for it.  Earning his favor was very hard, but Hale felt a seed of that worship he’d abandoned in childhood, in rare moments when he got the approval from the LT that he’d never gotten from his father.  He’d have followed that man anywhere, done anything he said. 

When he woke up to the LT on top of him in the night, he froze, could barely breathe. He closed his eyes, white-knucked his cot, and told himself it wasn’t really happening.  It wasn’t every night.  A few times, but not knowing when it would happen laced every sunset with terrifying possibility. Hale told himself it wasn’t real, that it was just nightmares.  If he puked up his breakfast some mornings or his hands shook and he broke out in a cold sweat when the LT stood behind him for too long when they were in formation, he wasn’t that much worse off than the guys who were shook up over killing folks.  Or at least he could tell himself so.  Sometimes he could even forget and look up to the man momentarily, like when the LT gave him one of those signature back-handed compliments all the men strove for, or a draw from his hip flask with real honest to god liquor, or looked at him with something like pride.  Hell he’d have done anything for those moments when he first got to the unit.  He hated himself for finding even the faintest hint of satisfaction in it any longer, but that didn’t make the satisfaction go away.

When he heard Zan, another one of the soldiers in his unit, crying late at night, after they bunked down, he felt the pit-of-his-stomach horror knowing that it was happening to another one of the men.

Then it was all too ruttin’ real and Hale felt his heart nearly thunder out of his chest.  He didn’t sleep that night, or the next.  He knew better than to approach a man while he was stifling sobs in his bunk, and he needed time to marshal his courage and find a way to swallow his shame if only momentarily.  He waited until he’d gotten a moment alone with the other soldier.  “I know what he’s doing to you Zan, it’s happening to me too,” he confided, nauseous and breathless.  Zan’s face went sheet-white, and then pain exploded across Hale’s face.  It took him a moment to realize that Zan had punched him square in the nose.  He held a hand to his bleeding (and rapidly swelling) face.  Zan called him a few choice names and accused him of being a liar; threatened that if he ever spoke a word about it to the other men he’d wake up with a round in his skull.

Hale left before sundown.  He ditched his unit and walked himself out of the hot zone to the nearest populated area, half hoping an Alliance bullet would find him before he reached civilization.  No such luck.  He took odd jobs almost always under a different name.  His requirements were simple: an understanding that he could leave at any time and his own bunk.  Hale gave up on heroes and he couldn’t find it in him to trust anyone in a position to give him orders. He worked with almost two-dozen crews, always reliable for a short stint but usually taking off after a job or two.  Since he never intended to stay long he developed a specialty detailing and restoring ships.  He’d get a machine looking factory clean and then take his pay and hop onto the next rust bucket that needed restorin’.  If he liked the crew sometimes he’d lend a hand in other endeavors when things got dicey.  He was a steady shot and didn’t like seeing people needlessly corpsified.

Yet, that feeling that he’d been moving toward something was replaced with the constant sense of running away.  He thought it might get better after the war was over, no matter who won, but it didn’t.

Hale learned to enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done and started using the street name Ship Shape which allowed him to change aliases without losing his resume.  He became one of the best one-man cleaning and restoration crews in the ‘verse partially because he was meticulous, and partially because he didn’t mind spending ten hours banging out a ding or a dent.  Working with his hands calmed him.  He also picked up enough mechanical skills to take an engine apart and put her back together again like new, though he was never as great at improvising when a job was lacking the parts. 

Even with a strong rep, as an Independent, and a deserter at that, most of his work was for questionable folk.  In his darker moments he considered that he might be more like his old man than he’d like to admit.  Throughout his travels he tried never to steal a cent and not to kill anyone who wasn’t keen on killing him. This meant patches when work was hard to come by.  When he couldn’t find work on ships, he experimented with a handful of manual trades.  He’d patch up fences and barns on the ranches or play handyman. 

His one attempt at spending some time with a mining colony turned out to be a disaster.  He couldn’t shake his paranoia working in a dark closed space, and assaulted one of the other workers who approached him from behind.  It was ugly.  He felt like shit about it, really he did, and figured cooling his heels in a barren cell for a while was well-deserved.  Luckily the assault record was filed for an alias, and considering he and the victim were unimportant, and he hadn’t intentionally made enemies of the guards overseeing lock up, he was released after a thirty-day stint.  Surprisingly, he made a few good contacts in the slammer, some he might be inclined to call on again if the need ever arose.  As soon as they tossed him out with his meager personal effects and his coal caked coveralls he ditched that fake name for another one and caught some real mechanic and electrical work on a ship heading off planet. Then, back to the grind.

Personality: Patient, Sardonic, and a little lost, Hale’s personality has changed significantly in the past several years.  Once a naïve, gregarious, adventure-seeker Hale has become wiser, but also more cynical.  He chooses to stay in the background now, less apt to draw attention to himself.  He is very independent-minded and occasionally has issues with authority.  His demeanor with others, when not reserved, can range from congenial to terse depending on the situation.  Yet underneath his somewhat bitter exterior is a caring idealist who has had his hopes stomped on more than once.  He is extremely reliable, proud, and considerate.  He thinks he’s lost the ability to trust, but he’s never lost the desire to. 

Weaknesses: After what happened to him in the military there are some situations where working in dark crowded spaces is an issue for Hale.  Whether his sensitivity will be triggered depends largely on the given situation, but it’s occasionally come up in the context of ship maintenance.  While Hale has commendable mechanical skills and is capable of using a computer at an average level he learned later in life and programming or software development would be well beyond his capabilities.  Hale is also not a strong reader; he’s mildly dyslexic (though never formally diagnosed), so full length books are tough for him to get through.  Hale’s most significant weakness, however, is his unwillingness to put his trust in people or get close to them, this goes both for work and personal relationships.  He doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to get close to him and when people try, that’s usually his cue to bolt.

Notable Skills: Hale has a knack for restoring ships and building things.  He’s very adept with most tools and takes genuine enjoyment in having a project.  His military training and subsequent work have made him adept at handling and shooting weapons.  He was also responsible for some demolitions work while with his unit and later when he was working as a miner and is comfortable with a range of incendiary devices.  A childhood spent exploring caves has made him adept at hiking, rock climbing, and basic survival skills.  Oddly enough, he also knows how to can fruit and veg, as well as making mean pickles and jams.  He’s had a lot of experience seeing after young kids and can quiet a crying baby or change a diaper with ease.  That’s not to say he enjoys it.  Turns out he also has a lovely singing voice should he ever decide to use it (but he’ll only do it when he’s really drunk).

Weapons: Smith & Wesson Model 10 – 38 Special; Colt M1911; Browning Hi-Power - 9x19mm; Mock Colt XM177E2 Commando

Likes: Liquor, Being Out in the Black, Wandering a Quiet Ship at Night, Radio Broadcasts, Anything Lemon Flavored, his Bomber Jacket
Dislikes: Childcare, Organized Religion, Thieves, Liars, Dark Enclosed Spaces, Breakfast
Hobbies: Building Model Ships, Drinking, Listening to Radio Broadcasts,
Fears and Phobias: Security of his bunk, People in his Room at Night, Claustrophobic (but only with people),
Ons and Offs: My Ons & Offs, Hale has a few additional offs due to his past abuse.  He isn’t comfortable with a lot of weight on top of him, and needs to face his partner.  He doesn’t enjoy being pinned down and is extremely uncomfortable with blindfolds and bondage of any kind – giving or receiving.
Extraneous Information: Part of his backstory was inspired by an Orson Scott Card character from A War of Gifts.
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